Deal with the Devil
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day seven hundred and fifty-nine: The Alternates need someone to confide in... and Rachel drafts Santana.  Berry-St series


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 36th cycle. Now cycle 37!_

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><p><strong>"Deal With The Devil"<br>AU!Rachel (AU!Jesse/Quinn) - Santana  
>Berry-St #21 (following 'Inner Circle') <strong>

Sometimes when she woke up in the morning, she forgot… She thought she was still home, and that her fathers were split, one in Akron, one in Lima, business as usual. And then she'd go down into the kitchen, and there they'd be, both of them, smiling, laughing… sometimes there'd be a shimmy or two from Pop if the radio was on. And they'd look up, and they'd smile when they'd see her… and it wasn't so much that she remembered 'oh, yes, I'm in some bizarre alternate world.' She saw them, together and happy, and it was like she didn't have to be that girl anymore, the harder version of who she used to be. She could be happy, too. It wasn't until she'd gotten in this world, felt their unity around her, that she realized how much she had lost of her passion for what she did. It had just become about succeeding, on her own if no one would be there to give her more than basic comments, repetitive compliments. In that sense she preferred McKinley, and New Directions, instead of Carmel and Vocal Adrenaline. They made her feel like she was part of something, not just one piece in a puzzle, even if she was in the lead.

Still she was outnumbered. There were three of them who'd been 'relocated,' and the other two had no interest in staying in this world. The little lovebirds were gunning for re-entry into their own world, the one where she'd wake up, think she'd be in a one-dad home… and be right. She couldn't have that, it'd be moving backward, and she was always… always about moving forward, getting better. They were together now, why couldn't they just be thankful, settle in, and go make lovebird babies…

"We need help," Jesse announced one day, looking across to Quinn as they sat in a coffee shop. Rachel sat in between, no trace of a smile, staring into nothing and having to stare at the two of them, their hands on the table, not touching but twitching like they wanted to be. They were a lot more careful about not looking like a couple at school, where they could be seen and weren't supposed to be, but even in public like this they didn't want to take any chances. Hearing his suggestion, she nodded in approval.

"I keep getting looks like I'm saying the wrong thing, and I get the impression like I'm supposed to be way more…" she made an angry face, but it only made Jesse smile, which made her lose it.

"This is a nightmare…" Rachel muttered under her breath.

"Look, I don't know who this other Quinn is, and if we're supposed to pretend like we're these other guys, then I have to fix that, and then maybe we'll actually have a shot at getting back… home," she sighed. "But who are we supposed to ask?"

The idea came to her all at once. If there was one thing Rachel Berry could do, in any which world, it was to get creative, no matter the circumstances. "You two spitball ideas over here, and we'll reconvene tomorrow," she got up and marched out of the shop before they could argue. It wouldn't be hard to find her. A call here, secretary voice there, and then she had her mother on the line, giving the number to reach her on her cell. With a self-satisfied smile, she called her up.

"Hello?"

"Santana, hello," she greeted her. There was a pause.

"What did I say when I gave you this number?" Rachel frowned; how had 'look in her contacts' escaped her? She shook her head, moving on.

"I need to talk to you, it's important. Breadstix, half an hour. Come alone." She hung up. If she knew that girl the way she thought she did, it would do. She headed to the mall, entered the restaurant and sat in a booth, holding to water and complementary breadsticks as she waited. And then there she was, sliding into the seat opposite from her.

"Okay, first off, you got a lot of nerve to just…"

"Thank you, that'll be good," she held up her hand to quiet her, and if this was a cartoon she just might have flames in her eyes as she amped to reply, but again Rachel was faster. "I know how you operate. And some might see confiding in you what I'm about to tell you as a one-way ticket to being sold out, but I don't see it that way. I see it as not holding back, and trusting that you'll know to make the right decision," she spoke almost diplomatically. She paused, tilting her head as though to ask 'still got anything to say?'

"Several things, actually, but let's say I'll humor you… for now," Santana sat up. "Speak."

"What if I tell you I'm not from around here?" she began.

"Finally owning up to being the creation of a mad scientist with dashed dreams of Broadway fame?"

"Nice try, but no. I'm talking about another world, like this one, but different."

"Did you eat the meat surprise at school? Everyone knows to stay off that unless you want a good buzz to get you through the afternoon classes," Santana frowned.

"Would you stop and listen to me? No meat surprise, no drugs, I'm completely lucid and absolutely serious. Last month, Jesse and I woke up one morning and we were not where or who we were supposed to be. Jesse was supposed to be here, with New Directions, and I was the headliner for Carmel High's Vocal Adrenaline," her back straightened as she said this, but then slacked again. "Except I woke up here and he woke up there." She paused. Santana's face stayed blank, not showing whether she trusted her, or was figuring how to get her committed. "I was doing… fine… on my own, no one even questioned it. But then there was the Quinn thing…"

"Oh, this I have to hear," Santana broke silence for just a beat.

"They're together, in my world, her and Jesse, so when he got here he reached out to her, told her everything. She was helping us, but then…"

"But then?"

"Then she got switched too," Rachel admitted.

"Wait, hold up," Santana held her hand up. "I'm not saying you're not one straightjacket away from being the new school crazy, but if I join your head wound crew and end up in some other world, I'll find you…"

"And strap me in the jacket yourself?" Rachel filled in. "I saw that other me's closet, please, go for it," she waved it off, and finally she got a smirk out of Santana. And a breakthrough.

"You're serious," she stated.

"Wish I wasn't, you have no idea," Rachel shook her head.

"So why are you telling me? I don't know how you expect me to help you… get home," she tested, like someone who didn't completely believe it still, but for the moment she was running with it.

"No, no, that's what they want," she pointed backward, "Jesse and Quinn, they want to go back there, I don't. I want to stay right here."

"Why?" Santana frowned. "You guys in Vocal Adrenaline get your own car, giant trophies, praise…"

"My dads are separated," she stated, stopping her. "In my world… When I got here, and I saw them… together, happy… the way they used to be…" she sighed, staring at the ring her glass of water had left on the table, dragged her finger through it.

"I'm sorry," Santana responded in earnest, and Rachel nodded, staring back at her. "So if you're not trying to go back, I'll ask again, why are you telling me?"

"They're trying to get a new 'home court advantage' helper… I'd rather it was someone I trust to know just what needs to be done… and not done."

"So, lie," Santana deducted.

"Helping with keeping our covers, yeah, definitely. But the other part, about making me go back… there… Just smile and nod and say 'of course.'"

"So, lie," she repeated. Rachel shrugged. "And why should I do it? What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" Rachel sat back. Santana looked at her, thinking.

"I'm sure I can come up with something," she sat back as well.

"I don't doubt it for a second. So are you in or not?" The Cheerio smirked.

The next day, Rachel met up with Jesse and Quinn again. Apparently they couldn't make up their minds. So Rachel made her pitch about Santana. They were resistant at first; they both knew the girl a lot more than she did, obviously, but after a few points made, they folded, asking that they be the one to give her 'the talk.' Rachel didn't complain. They called her up, she came to meet them, and Rachel sat and watched as Santana gave the perfect performance of someone who had no idea what she was about to be told. She gave some 'resistance,' but in the end agreed to help them. Rachel smiled to herself… now she could feel at ease.

THE END

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><p><strong>AN: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
><strong>**In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
><strong>******always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!******


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